I'm not even going to make any excuses. I suck... but I'm determined to finish this fic, and I am conscious of how many people want to see an end to this story (if they even remember it at this point). So hopefully this will be the start of a whole new batch of updates until Elysium reaches it crescendo...
Disclaimer: I do not own final fantasy or any Square Enix characters.
This fan fiction contains dark, upsetting psychological and sexual themes so if you are not comfortable with that kind of thing then please don't read because I don't want to upset anyone.
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Sephiroth scraped his gloved finger against the crumbling paint, digging his nail in until the chunk fell off and rolled to the ground in a shower of smaller fragments. He wore a plain expression as he regarded the scene in front of him with cool annoyance.
Cloud was lying on his bed, one hand holding the pillow beneath his head, his fingers laced through his hair, and the other hand resting close by. A grim expression marred his face as he stared dully at the wall in front of him.
It didn't annoy him to see Cloud unhappy, he was rarely in a good mood since the ordeal with Clarence, but it did annoy him when he saw which of the boy's 'friends' had come to comfort him for yet another evening.
"So you don't feel like going out tonight?" The annoying voice of Zackary Fair bellowed in his ears, causing him to stiffen in annoyance.
"No," his angel replied, "you can though. I'm probably just going to go to sleep early."
Sephiroth smiled at the suggestion. Yes, leave him alone.
"Nah, I'll just stay here a while then," the reply wasn't unexpected enough to warrant a full glower, just a downward twitch of his lips. This pest. Zackary Fair couldn't fool him, he saw him for the hormonally driven teenager that he was. He knew why he was always sniffing around his boy, why he was always striving to place himself upon the saddle of the white night's beast, where trust would be bared to him as vulnerably as a tight fleshed gullet.
"I'm fine Zack." Cloud's throat bobbed over the edge of the knife, taunting it to action.
"I know, but I miss you sometimes, y'know?"
He didn't like the way Cloud reddened at the comment, smiling softly and ducking his head. He hated the way his boy saved special smiles for Zack, smiles that showed love and comfort and sometimes even lust.
Yes, Sephiroth could see the way his boy stared at his friend; he wasn't so naive that he couldn't see how blinded he was by the sinister glamor, whose illusion was enhanced by the hormones in his young system. It infuriated him to hysteria, this crude wantonness, but he constantly soothed his soul with reminders that his boy would not be allowed to touch anyone but Sephiroth for as long as they both lived. If he ever did catch the boy doing anything of the sort then he would not stop himself from barging in and interrupting the act, no matter the time or place. He didn't care. Planning aside, Clouds virginity was his.
"Fine," his boy sighed dramatically, falsely, sitting up and raising his brow at the other, "you can stay."
Sephiroth for his part just sighed heavily as he condemned himself to spending another night having to watch his cherub love someone else and ignore him. No, not even ignore him, because one had to be aware of the existence of something in order to ignore it.
Cloud wasn't aware of him at all. He was as irrelevant standing out here as the cold blades of grass beneath his feet. Crunching, swaying, shivering, crying and reaching to deaf ears and numb hands.
For now, he reminded himself, for now.
The night continued on with little variation as the two boys talked about nothing and everything in the bedroom, content to remain in each other's company as the hours passed. Sephiroth was angry that the few precious nights he took away from Modeoheim, where the days were spent in renovation and snowy missions, were almost constantly interrupted by the other boy's presence.
"The reporters have stopped?" The dark haired boy's question interrupted his thoughts, and he listened with raised interest to the answer.
"Yeah, finally," Cloud answered.
Since the incident with Clarence, the one which he, to his admitted guilt, had orchestrated, the local media had been persistent in their pursuit of his boy, reveling in the sensationalism of the case. The police had issued a car to take the boy to and from school and otherwise he didn't seem to hold much interest in leaving the house. This public attention clearly upset and embarrassed Cloud, who was a shy creature by nature, and Sephiroth was genuinely sorry for causing him so much grief. It all only made him more anxious to complete the basement and get his boy away from all this misery and shit.
"It will be over soon."
A scoff answered Fair's comment as its creator fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt and looked out towards the window, spurring Sephiroth to boost the invisibility materia in his hand, more out of reflex than worry.
"I can't stop thinking about it. He died. I…just... it's weird..."
"It wasn't your fault Cloud. Come on, you're going to make yourself sick thinking like that." Sephiroth wanted to tell the idiot to be silent, that he was nothing but a privileged child who had no concerns in his life beyond his schoolwork and a social life. He couldn't understand the complexity of Cloud's unhappiness and so the thought of him trying to give advice on the subject was laughable. Was this all Cloud had had for his whole life? This was his source of sanity? It was a dismal concept.
"I know,"
The object of his thoughts sighed, leaning his forehead on his hand, making Sephiroth uncomfortable. "I want to. I'm going to try."
Zack ruffled the boy's hair. He just leaned over and did it, as naturally as taking air into his own lungs.
As naturally as he, in his mind, would stop him from ever doing so again.
"That's all you can do I suppose."
The two boys were silent for a few minutes and Sephiroth had to watch with unease as Cloud allowed the boy to keep a hand on his shoulder until he eventually spoke again, turning to look his friend fully in the face.
"Do you want to go out?" He asked.
Sephiroth pursed his lips, rolling his eyes up to the black sky as he willed the notion to simmer away. He didn't like Cloud attending those teenage parties, they were full of sex and drugs and every manner of obscenities. Surely Cloud knew the danger of them, his mind was not so fickle as to forget what had happened just a few short months ago. Why was he making such a treacherous request?
"Not really actually."
He looked back at the scene, his left brow arching up in surprised pleasure. And Zachary was the cause?
"Zack-"
"No seriously, I was just asking because I thought you might have wanted to. To be honest I have training and stuff tomorrow so it would be better if I left it. Plus…"
"What?"
"Well Angeal did threaten to take away my bike and put me into Shinra's training camp if I went out on a weekday again. Heh…"
"Ha," Cloud let out a bark of laughter as he stared at the boy incredulously while shaking his head. Zack gave a sheepish shrug and chuckled a bit.
"You do realize he's going to act on those threats someday."
"Yeah probably."
"Alright well," Cloud sat up straight and rubbed at his hair a bit. Sephiroth thought he might have been trying to tidy it, which was a ridiculous and impossible feat. Cloud's hair was anything but tidy. Beautiful, silky, bright, but not tidy. "There are a couple of movies on tonight. Wanna go out there to watch something for a while?"
"Yeah okay. That sounds like a safer option. "
And so he watched his boy walk out from beneath his wing with a sinking feeling of despair that he wasn't able to block from his psyche. It was ridiculous to feel thus, knowing that within two months at the most Cloud would be with him thousands of miles away from anyone who could take him back, but every time he watched the boy with these people, watched how they were able to touch him and talk to him and make him smile, he grew angry and frustrated, and depressed. He knew Cloud wasn't in love with Zackary, they were just teenagers after all and the most Cloud was feeling for the boy was a vague inclination, but he worried that these feelings would be acted upon and that he would lose what rightfully belonged to him to a hormone induced impulse on either boy's part. That was why he had to return as soon as possible and finish his work. The sooner Cloud was with him the better.
But he wasn't going back until the morning, and for now he needed something to override the blackness coiling in his core.
He fell back from the wall in long steps, his back arched into a curve as he looked at the crumbling rooftop above his head. One of his many companions in this dying adventure.
Once he was far back enough, his boots caged by the longer grass of the neglected patch, he fell into a crouch, his gloved fingers pressing into the soft ground as if seeking a pulse, and then letting it all fall away, the wind screaming in his ears as he ascended above its control.
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"So why'd ya pick me?"
Sephiroth brought his eyes lazily upwards, smirking lightly at the smug look on the hustler's face. He could have been a handsome boy, if life and drug abuse hadn't dulled his features, sucked the rose from his cheeks, hollowed out his eyes and fused his bones with thin skin.
"Does there have to be a reason?" He asked softly, running his eyes up and down the unbelievably narrow form. The boy's ribs poked out of his tight green vest and he could see the hipbones clearly due to the low riding skin-tight jeans. He was malnourished, but he wasn't the worst out here.
The boy raised a pale brow and clicked his tongue.
"N'really," he drawled, spinning on his heal in an attempt to be sexy, "just figured someone like you had a specific taste. The rich dogs usually do n'all."
Sephiroth chuckled as he watched the form wander around the space, the backroom of an abandoned warehouse a few miles outside the city, in feminine movements not suited to a male physique. He swayed and sauntered within the orange walls, dragging his fingers over the cracks that revealed the blue-white plaster underneath.
"Well," Sephiroth started, taking a breath tainted with the damp scent of mold and dead construction, "I like blondes."
The kid let out a laugh.
"Who don't?" He snorted wryly, giving him a genuinely amused grin, "Ya must like em young too." He gave the man a meaningful look. Sephiroth returned it evenly.
"Yes. You're sixteen, am I correct?"
"Not accord'n ta the feds," was the quick answer as he placed a too curved hand on his skinny hip.
"I see," Sephiroth agreed, "I like blue eyes as well," he said after a minutes silence.
"Hnn, comes with the blond," retorted the prostitute, pushing his greasy hair back from his face. "So… tell me,"
"Yes," he coaxed, pushing himself off of the wall he was leaning against.
"Why does the General of da Shinra army need to go looken for someone ta screw. Woulda thought you'd have a line of eager cunts willing ta wet ya," the cheeky look on the boy's face was quite endearing.
It was a shame what the world did to some people.
"Oh I do" Sephiroth answered playfully, feeling titillated as he walked languidly towards the short boy, who in turn looked up at him, impressively unafraid. "I just find that…adoration is a turn off."
"How d'ya know I don't adore ya?" The boy challenged, studying his form. Sephiroth let out a laugh and fingered a strand of the greasy blond bangs.
"You wouldn't know what adoration means. People like you don't adore, you hate the planet, you want to see it corrupted and destroyed. You have nothing to worship."
The boy swallowed heavily, he backed off a bit and scratched his head.
"Yeesh, way'ta make a guy feel like crap," he muttered, turning away from him slightly.
"I apologize if I have offended you," he said flatly, not conveying any sign that he was truly sorry for his words.
"Been called worse," the teen shrugged, giving him another wry grin as if nothing else had ever been present on that particular mouth. His left eye kept twitching.
"Indeed."
"So, we gonna keep talking for the night or are we gonna get ta business? My guy don't like it when I spend too long on one client," Sephiroth tilted his head.
"Does he know where you are?" His voice showed disinterest, idleness, but the question was vital.
"Nah, he just counts the Gil the next day an can always tell if I haven't done enough. No one knows m'here," the poor creature answered unwittingly. Sephiroth smiled; pleased.
"That's quite dangerous," he mused. The boy shrugged again.
"It's a dangerous lot."
Sephiroth kept his gaze on the young hustler and he could see it was unnerving him. The boy scratched his arm, where awful bruises darkened the skin on the inside of his elbow, and blew his hair out of his eyes.
"So, we gonna…" he cut himself off, giving the man what he thought was a suggestive look. But his eye wouldn't stop twitching.
"All right then, it is getting late," Sephiroth agreed. He stepped back from the light, leaving the teenager standing alone in it.
"Wha'cha want me ta do?" The boy asked, clearly confused by his actions.
"Strip."
The boy smirked, not the least bit abashed by the command.
He watched on then as the hustler began pulling his top over his head, moving in slow, angled movements that were meant to entice. He pulled the skimpy article completely off and let it hang from his thumb for a minute while he struck a formulated pose and stared at the General in askance.
"Like what ya see?" He queried smugly, a tilt to his lips.
Sephiroth stared at the pale torso, studying the bony chest and the mapped abdomen. Another image flashed through his mind; someone else's torso. It was lean, but not skinny like this boy, and it didn't have any of the bruises or marks like the one in front of him. And the skin was lighter and more- he brought his eyes towards the others face.
"Continue," he ordered briskly.
The boy mistook his annoyance for eagerness and with a self-satisfied smile began running his hands down his stomach following the lines of his pelvis and then looping them together in the golden zipper of his tight pants. He pulled the zipper downwards and then began to slowly slide the pants down his thighs. Sephiroth studied the red marks across the hips and above the legs from the tight pants as they were removed.
The boy stepped out of the jeans gracefully, which was not an easy feat considering their size, and then stood up unashamed of his nudity.
Flashes began to cross through Sephiroth's mind, the body in front of him changing from malnourished and scrawny, to healthy and lithe, gray skin turned alabaster and smugness turned to modesty. An angel, not trash, stood before him then.
"Turn around," he commanded in a deep voice, his body beginning to catch up to his mind.
The hustler rose a brow but did as he was told, flattered by the man's intensity. General Sephiroth was quite a catch of course.
The man in question studied the back before him, the curve of the visible spine and the pear shaped buttocks.
"No tattoos?" He questioned lowly.
"Nah," the boy laughed, "not into that shit."
"Usually different pimps demand it, don't they?" Sephiroth asked, his mind morphing the image in front of him to suit his demands.
"Not my guy."
"Hmm." Sephiroth began walking forward, approaching the form. The boy turned towards him, his eyes becoming clouded with lust. He was clearly into exhibitionism, because he was already hard against his concaved stomach.
Sephiroth stopped and smirked down at him. It wasn't a teenage prostitute in front of him anymore, the hair rose to spikes that tickled his chin as he leaned down, the skin plumped and glowed, the eyes became bright and large.
A tentative hand rose towards his chest where the buckles exposed his hard skin and he allowed it, shivering at the contact of the bony fingers.
"So strong," the boy drawled, mesmerized. "Ye're like a god. As real as any I've ever fucking touched."
Sephiroth clicked his tongue, wrapping an arm around the small waist and jerking the boy tightly against his body, earning himself a grunt from the younger mouth.
"I am a god."
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I'm your god Cloud.
Cloud.
Cloud
Cloud opened his eyes, closing them again when a bright light threatened to torch his irises into permanent ash. As he waited for them to adjust he became aware of how strange the rest of his body felt. His ears were ringing loudly and his limbs felt like the bones and muscles had been boiled to rubber beneath his skin. His mind was still fuzzy from lethargy so he couldn't properly make sense of anything aside from the notion that he was lying on a bed that was too hot, in a room that was too bright.
"Nnngh,"
A jolt of burning pain woke him up completely, everything else forgotten, and his eyes widened as he attempted to move his legs again.
"Ah-"
He twisted in the sheets, wincing as the movement jolted his body, which felt like it had been trampled by a Behemoth. He pushed the blankets away from his face, feeling suffocated and hot.
"Uh," he grunted when he tried to move again, the pain in his lower body becoming more horrific. It was burning him, actually scorching him like a live flame licking its way inside any entryway it could find. His chest hurt too, and his shoulders, and his neck. Every part of him, and he felt sick and dizzy.
Rape.
Yes, he knew exactly what had happened, why he felt this way. It was clawing at the back of his mind, live demons with sharp claws tearing away at the meat of his psyche and pushing forward to his conscious, woken mind.
He swallowed, wincing at the pain in his chest again. He felt terrible. This wasn't how he was supposed to feel after losing his virginity. He never wanted to be penetrated that way, that's not what his body was built for, and if he was it was supposed to be with someone he loved and trusted. Someone who could make it worth the pain.
No, he didn't feel good at all. He felt filthy, violated, used, cheep… disgusting. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to beg for it not to be true. But all he could do was lie there, ignoring the flaky feeling between his legs, the agony, and try to breathe normally.
In out Inout I-n, o-out in in out.
He felt a movement beside him and his entire body went as still as a fragment of crystal.
"Hmmm, good morning love," Sephiroth's lethargic voice reminded him of a Dual Horn's growl, low and rumbling, but threatening a much worse bite. A searing arm made its way around his waist and he gasped at the feeling of their bare skin touching.
The nights events came flooding back into his head, the physicality of the ordeal. Everything; the sounds, the feelings, the fear, the silence, the pain. It was overwhelming him and he closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to will the memories away.
"Shhh, it's alright."
He hadn't realized he was making noise until his captor began silencing him, combing fingers through his hair and stroking his face. He tried to block out the caresses, he couldn't bear them now. Not after…
He wouldn't open his eyes. If he didn't open them to this new day, then he didn't have to be in it.
This was the start of the most perfect day Sephiroth would live.
He never wanted to wake up any other way but this again. Everything was so perfect, so comfortable; the feeling of Cloud's warm body against his, the soft blankets around them, the light shining through the large window, the smell of their love making still lingering in the air. It was something out of a dream, and yet it was reality. A reality he had created. He felt himself become hard, not an unusual reaction to having Cloud Strife naked beside him he supposed.
Not satisfied with having to stare at the back of the boy's head, he placed a hand on his shoulder and slowly turned him around, noticing the reluctance clear on his face. Cloud was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, it was obvious at that moment, his pretty face glowing in the morning light, a tear running across his lightly freckled nose, his big eyes pressed closed. He was perfect.
"It's alright," he whispered, running his hand up and down the length of Cloud's arm, feeling the goose bumps there.
Cloud thought that he would have preferred being anywhere, absolutely anywhere, than where he was at that moment. In a bed with the man who had… raped him. Having to put up with his false words and actions, too afraid to protest to either. It was hell, the very definition. He moved his legs as the pain between them flared up again. Sephiroth noticed the reaction.
"Are you sore?" He questioned. Cloud's cheeks tinged red as he remained silent.
"I understand, it will get better soon enough though, and eventually it won't hurt. You'll get used to it."
His eyes finally opened then, widened until he imagined his lids tearing away from each other as he grasped what had been said. It should have been obvious that Sephiroth would want to do it again, rape him again, but at that moment Cloud couldn't fathom hearing anything worse. It pulled him further into the darkness and despair.
His fingers dug into his own palms and he was surprised at how week they felt. Sephiroth pulled him in closer until they were lying on the same pillow, their noses almost touching.
"You're not used to it yet Cloud," he whispered, his eyes following the finger still running through the blond spikes. "It will get easier, I promise you that."
"…" Cloud had no time to respond as he found his lips captured in the first kiss of the day. He chocked a bit in his throat but otherwise let it happen, his stomach doing flip-flops while he tried to keep still.
The fact that the boy's mouth felt dry and he had yet to brush his teeth didn't take away from the pleasantness of the kiss for Sephiroth. This is the way he wanted it to be, he wanted to be able to wake up beside his boy and be able to kiss those delectable lips first thing in the morning. He was finally able to do that now and was in no way under appreciative of the fact.
In a surge of energy he grabbed the blond with both arms and rolled over so the boy was on top of him, the blankets twisted about both of their legs. Cloud was startled at the sudden action and it showed on his face as he stared down at him, along with the pain the movement caused.
"My apologies," he drawled, looking at the boy fondly. Cloud lowered his eyes to the hands braced against the man's chest, awkwardly trying to avoid his nipples. The effort of keeping his head up was unusually difficult and the feeling of their skin pressed so awkwardly together was making him nervous and ill. "We are as we were meant to be now, do you understand?"
Cloud just frowned.
"Don't look so sad love..." Sephiroth squeezed the teen to himself, almost trying to meld their bodies into one. He let the boy up after a few minutes, taking the time to study the red marks dotting his neck and chest. He smile faltered at the look of some of the bites; he had gotten carried away, but he was mostly proud to see his claim upon the young skin. He traced a finger over the juncture of Cloud's neck and shoulder, shifting in order to hide his arousal.
They stayed like that for over an hour, Sephiroth petting and complementing his young lover, who in turn remained silent and eventually let his head fall onto the strong chest, partly from exhaustion and partly because he didn't want the man to see his sadness, the only sounds escaping his lips being gasps or whimpers of pain when his body was forced to move. Eventually Sephiroth decided that it was time for breakfast, which they would have together.
He eased the boy back against the mattress as softly as he could before getting out of the bed.
Cloud moved himself so he was sitting up slightly while clutching the blankets tight to his neck. He closed his eyes because the morning light was hurting and because he was not comfortable with his captor's nakedness; he didn't want anything to trigger anymore memories from the night before. He sighed in relief when Sephiroth walked into the adjoining bathroom.
Sephiroth took a few minutes to relieve his bladder and splash his face with cold water before he grabbed the black robe hanging from the wall hook and put it on. He walked back into his bedroom moments later to see Cloud still sitting as he was, his fingers laced in the blankets on his knees. He looked a little pale and sweaty but Sephiroth assumed it was due to the trauma. He walked over to his dresser and pulled a out blue linen shirt.
Cloud watched the man approach him, realizing this was the first time he had ever seen Sephiroth in something other than his leather outfit. It was…strange. It made him look different. More human, but also more predatory. Sephiroth dressed in his armor was General Sephiroth, and despite all the bad things he had done to him there was still a heroic aura around the title, something familiar perhaps. Now he looked just like the stranger he really was, and that made him almost more terrifying.
"Here," his kidnapper said, handing him the blue material he was holding, "I have no extra robes. I don't think they'd fit you very well even if I did. " Cloud cautiously took the article, biting his lip as he held it on his lap.
"Do you need help getting it o-"
He shook his head quickly, his eyes dropping down to look at the pale blue fabric more closely. It looked unhappy and breathless, sprawled across his lap like the aftermath of a murder.
Sephiroth shrugged and walked over to the window, gazing out at the snowy plain. The white light turned him, his skin and his hair, white, but Cloud knew that wasn't his true color. It was a joke played by the heavens, more torment for him to withstand.
He bit his lip as he sat up straighter, his chest and lower body burning with exertion. He slowly pulled the material around himself, his hands finding the sleeves and pulling into them, they barely came halfway through. He rolled the material back off his forearms and then proceeded to tie the buttons down his chest, his shaking numb fingers not able to entertain his mind's wish for haste. Once the shirt was closed he smoothed it out and saw that it reached almost to his knees which he was glad for, but then he saw something which made his body turn cold.
Blood.
There was blood all over the sheets around him. It was scattered in dark brown and light red blotches, clotted and wiped into the linen.
He slid himself over to the left and looked at the extent of the stains. It was awful...
Was he bleeding? Was that normal? It was his… Gaia. He began breathing faster, pulling up the shirt and looking at more of the discolored stains all over his thighs.
He was going to be sick.
"It's alright," he brought his desperate eyes towards Sephiroth who was looking down at the stained sheet. He quickly covered his legs again, keeping his eyes on the man.
"It happens the first few times, it's just caused by the friction. It stopped quickly so there's nothing to worry about. I wouldn't put you in danger."
Cloud had to swallow the emotions welling up in his throat, his heart thrumming loudly. Sephiroth smirked and ruffled his hair.
"Shall we?" He asked. He just continued to watch the man, his eyes stinging at the corners.
I wouldn't put you in danger.
"I'll tie you up again."
"Say you love me."
"SAY IT."
The blond grit his teeth as he sat upright, slowly twisting himself around, then moving his legs outwards and placing them on the ground.
"A-ah."
A burning pain shot up his spine and he lent forward in order to alleviate it. "I ca- I cant." He breathed, trying to sit up again.
Sephiroth was surprised at the amount of pain the boy was in, he moved over to the side of the bed where the boy was currently breathing as if he had taken a shock materia to the gut.
"What are you…?" Cloud looked around in confusion when he suddenly felt himself been lifted into the air, Sephiroth holding him beneath his knees and shoulders. He gripped the man's shoulder out of instinct and looked down towards the floor.
Sephiroth smirked, pressing the boy against his chest. He knew his pain was nothing to be concerned with as he'd already checked the boy for damages while he slept, but he didn't want to make things any more miserable for the poor creature. Even if every wince he made excited him...
"Let's go."
At any other time Cloud knew he would have kicked and screamed and writhed under such indignity, fighting until he was free of the hold, but that morning he couldn't find it in him to do more than close his eyes and count the steps as Sephiroth carried him out of the room, down through the hall and then the carpeted staircase. Every jolt of his body hurt, and every sway made his stomach churn, but otherwise he felt strangely numb to the whole thing, some tingling layer of mist coating his skin, cutting off perception to the stimuli around him. He thought it might be what a ghost felt, present in the bridge of time but not able to make contact with anything within it, perhaps too traumatized by their own death to try...
"Say you love me."
So cut off he felt, that when Sephiroth finally let him down onto the thick cushions of the larger sitting room couch, he let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling of the cold material and his own pain. It felt like he'd been dropped through ice, the pain first as the hardness cracked and split on impact, and then the jolt of the freezing liquid beneath.
"Wait here. Relax. I'll bring you some food..." Sephiroth's voice pushed through it all with grating sharpness, because the demons of hell were never drowned out by the fires they lit, or the screaming they tore from the lungs of the damned.
Cloud didn't answer him. How could he? If he opened his mouth he'd scream, and never stop doing so until he tore his throat to bloody carnage and dislodged his broken heart from its bony coffin. He couldn't speak anymore. He couldn't acknowledge it.
Sephiroth took an audible breath above him, and Cloud flinched severely, a white jolt of fright running up his whole body, as the man reached down towards him.
He took a breath, curling back into the cushions behind him as far as he could, and waiting for the next horror in this never ending wave of terror.
"Cloud,"
But Sephiroth's voice was calm and a convincing imitation of kindness, his fingers running lightly under his chin and moving his face up to look at him. His eyes blazed in the bright morning, and Cloud could barely hear what he was saying, so enraptured and caged by the green.
"I won't let you act like a victim anymore Cloud. Even you can't deny the importance of last night. How perfect it was. So don't try to ruin it."
The words were blurred and low, and all he could do was stare back at their creator until his chin was released again and he could look away. Sephiroth fiddled around beside him for a few seconds then, searching for what turned out to be the remote control for the huge flat-screen television fixed into the white wall directly across from them.
The black screen came to life in a dissipation of static and crackling of mechanics, Cloud watched the images materialize in dull disinterest, a red and white metallic studio with a well groomed man and attractive woman speaking to the camera from behind the desk. The National News.
"I'll be back soon. Here."
The cold plastic was pressed into his hands, the soft rubber buttons digging harmlessly into his crackling skin. He didn't take it in, didn't welcome it within his grasp, but just let it and his hand lay dead on his lap as Sephiroth ran one more brisk hand through his hair and walked out of the room.
And there he was left, in this cold foreign room, wrapped in cold foreign material, sitting on a cold foreign couch and thinking with a cold foreign mind. But at the same time he felt hot, like there was a fire lit inside of him that wouldn't allow him to cool down no matter how much he shifted or pulled the collar away from his neck. He felt a damp line of sweat beneath his chin as he ran his fingers under it, and could feel more perspiration gathering along his hairline.
But what did it matter now really? What did it matter if he was too hot, or too cold, or warm, or cool? What difference did it make now? Did anyone ever stop to consider what the temperature of a coffin would be once closed and buried, whether the satin, wood and soil would combine to cook with the efficiency of an incinerator whatever had been laid to rest inside? Did they anguish over whether the frosted ground would seep in through the porous materials of its makeup and turn everything within the casket to ice and damp mold?
No one thought of these things, because they didn't need to. Because the only one who would suffer the results of this neglect would be the lifeless dead remnants of a creature gone, the meat of living souls. The dead couldn't feel cold, couldn't be scorched, they didn't shiver and they didn't sweat.
So it didn't matter that he felt like his skin was boiling away from his bones. He was dead as well now.
Cloud Strife, Dead?
He blinked, the white stodgy lettering so clear to his mind's eye that he could see it perfectly in front of him. Even when he blinked and opened his eyes again it was there, the symbols of the fact.
Cloud Strife, Dead?
And a picture of a long worm-like bag beneath, at the bottom left corner of the image. It was moving, carried over grass and stone by nameless hands while streams of writing zipped all around like a demented version of a Wutian music video.
This wasn't his mind. It was the screen in front of him. The big flat screen which Sephiroth had turned on, blaring the reflection of his own thoughts back at him like a giant bloodshot eye.
His heart sped up and he clamored with the remote control in his hands for several seconds before he was able to press down on the volume button and listen as the woman's faux voice became audible to his ringing ears.
"A body has been found in the rock-lands east of Midgar City in the early hours of this morning. The body, which is believed to have been badly decomposed and perhaps incinerated, was found by a traveling merchant on his way to the city, who contacted the authorities immediately upon the sighting. Though there is very little information available at this current time, it has been suggested that this might be the remains of the missing teenager, Cloud Strife. We will follow this story throughout the day, so stay tuned to this station, which always breaks the news before anyone else!"
Cloud's breath evacuated him, no longer willing to remain in a vessel that had no wish for its sustenance. His eyes flickered back and forth across the flashing screen, white foam beginning to seep in all around like oncoming frost on a windshield. The long black bag, the shape of a deadened cocoon, and his face, younger, smiling and still beside it.
The floating words.
Cloud Strife, Dead?
Missing teenager found.
Body uncovered.
Cloud Strife, Dead?
Cloud Strife. Dead.
The last thing he was aware of was the remote slipping out of his hand, sliding over the edge of the couch cushions, and into the thick fibers of the sheep-wool carpet below,
and himself following after it.
Sephiroth heard the bang and rushed in to find his boy in a heap on the floor in front of the couch, unconscious and flushed red.
As it turned out, his charge had a mild fever with joint symptoms of nausea and headaches, not in any real danger but ill all the same for the following days.
He had had to get medicine and extra potions from the branch on the mountain and monitor his patient for the whole of the first night, but by early the next morning his temperature had returned to normal and his color was bettering. Still uncomfortable however, the boy was lethargic and stayed in bed, Sephiroth's bed, for most of the next two days, only getting up to relieve himself in the small bathroom or ease the stiffness in his body by pacing the room. He was quiet and solemn and pale throughout his recovery and only managed to consume a few spoonfuls of peppered broth.
By the fourth day he was healthy again, but only physically.
Sephiroth was used to Cloud ignoring him, and flinching every time he came close. However his boy's new behavior was… unsettling.
He was calm, he did what he was asked to do, he took his medicine and what food he could manage without complaint, he acted without argument and he was generally well behaved. But it wasn't real. His eyes were glazed and unfocused and there was no life to his movements. As though he had turned into a puppet willed by the master's stringed fingers. It was disconcerting to the man, who had hoped that this distance would be bridged by what had happened between them, not elongated.
He wasn't a fool, he knew Cloud wouldn't be thrilled about what occurred and had expected the silent treatment and nervous behavior for some time, but this was something different. He didn't know how to handle this... ghostliness.
So, in true form to a problem he had no solution to, he'd brushed it to the side and focused on healing the boy's body for the time being, hoping the rest would follow eventually. Hoping...
Then on the fifth day after the boy's birthday something happened which caused this dynamic to change.
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"Where is she?"
If Zack wasn't sweating half his body weight out of his pores, and about to puke up a month full of food all over the speckled ground, he might have felt sheer embarrassment at the fact that his very loud and very dramatic shout was met with the startled but jaded eyes of everyone in the hospital reception area.
It wasn't busy in there, so the staff had more than likely just been lounging around the front desk passing time, and the few people sitting in the waiting chairs didn't't seem to be in any dire straits. Making his outburst all the more out of place.
He cleared his throat, scuffing the heel of his boot on the ground before walking forward, letting the door swing closed behind him.
"Hi," he said once he reached the front desk. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and breathed out slowly, still struggling to catch his breath from his hectic run up here. "Uh, Sky Strife was brought in here during the night… I didn't't know or I'd have come earlier but I … uh anyway where is she? Which room?"
The nurse gave him a small smile, her tired face wrinkling into heavy lines all around her eyes and lips. She mumbled something that sounded like 'one moment' and then started tapping on the computer's keyboard in front of her.
His own fingers started to drum on the counter top as he waited, idly looking around at the medical fliers and posters tapped to the light blue walls.
Get the life back in your stream.
Dealing with the stigma.
Green with envy or acute Mako poisoning?
"Okay," he turned back to the woman when she spoke again, her eyes still on the screen beneath him. "Are you her son?"
That struck him like a vat of hot oil over the head. He closed his eyes and willed himself to keep composure.
"No," he said softly, pressing his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth. "No, I'm not. I'm a close friend."
"Alright," the nurse said, seemingly unaware of the impact of her question. "Well she hasn't had any family visit yet so if you get in contac-"
"That's not possible at the moment," he interrupted firmly, struggling to keep his voice even. Did this woman live in a rock? He would have thought that everyone in the city knew who Sky Strife was by now.
"Alright. Well she's in room 445. Down the hall, to the left. She was brought in due to a severe seizure, most likely caused by the high levels of toxins in her blood, and is stable now. The doctor can inform you of the details if you'd like to speak with him later." She gave him another soft smile but he just nodded back with his lip's closed shut.
"Thanks," he said, and then turned away from the desk to go as directed.
As he walked through the claustrophobic corridors with their modern paintings and antiseptic air systems, he thought over what the woman had said. High levels of toxins in her blood. No, that's not what had happened here. It was her heart that was failing, halted by the devastating news he was himself trying to block out. The possibility that this was all coming to an end in the worst way imaginable.
"It's not confirmed", the words had been running through his mind for hours now, a single raft in a black, stormy ocean, "it has to be confirmed first. I have to make her understand that."
The door was closed when he reached it, turquoise blue with a heavy steel handle, and instead of opening it right away he leaned his head against its cool surface and took in a breath. He felt sick to his stomach since the moment he had heard that the woman had collapsed and was rushed into hospital during the night, since Angeal had woken him up before that with the halting news.
He had thought she was looking worse these days, but figured that was bound to happen all things considered. Now she had to deal with this, and she might… he wasn't able to even consider any more bad news, but he had to, and he just felt overwhelmed with everything.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," he whispered softly, squeezing his eyes shut. "This isn't about you." And with that he shook his head and stood up straight, ruffling the hair that had fallen around his face and grabbed the door handle. He had to be strong. With Cloud not around he had to be there for Sky, and she had to know he was there.
The second he opened the door his ears picked up the horribly familiar sounds of heart monitors beeping and oxygen machines gasping. He stepped into the darkly lit room and closed the door behind him with a gentle click.
"Oh Zackary," that was Shera Highwind. Zack was surprised to find someone else in the room, and stood there awkwardly as the thin woman got up from where she had been sitting beside the bed and smiled at him. A shy smile full of small teeth and big gums.
"Hi," he whispered, glancing at the bed where a desperately thin Sky was lying, numerous tubes and wires running like exterior veins from her body. The sight wasn't unusual, for he had been to visit Sky with Cloud often when she was ill, but he hated it every time. "How is she?"
"Not very well. She suffered a m-mild heart attack, caused by bad bacteria clogging the… caused by the fright… it happened during a seizure that put her body under pressure." Zack took in the words with prolonged dread. Heart attack? That hadn't happened before.
"An…now?" He mumbled. The woman lowered her head to her right shoulder as she looked back at the slumbering patient.
"I don't…the doctor seemed very negative to me. He wasn't saying anything but I could tell by him. She h-hasn't woken up yet, and they don't know when she will…" She pressed her thin lips together and shook her head. "it was the fright. It was the last thing she needed. How could people be so inconsiderate as to broadcast something like that before the people concerned have even had a chance to take it in? They did this to her." Zack definitely agreed with that, they were guilty.
"Zackary, I'm glad you're here. I have to get home and run a few errands so I was hoping someone would stay here in case she wakes. Are you in a-"
"No, no I can stay," the dark haired teen answered, nodding his head up and down while keeping his eyes on the bed. "Take your time; I'll just sit here for a while."
"Okay." Shera went over to the chair where a light pink coat and similar colored hand-bag were sitting. She didn't't put on the coat but hung it over her forearm, and then picked up the bag.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," she said to him and he just nodded.
"Take your time."
Once she left he walked over to the bed and looked down.
Sky looked awful. Terrible. If Cloud were here he'd be freaking out big time. Jack could see that the woman's body fat had diminished so much that almost every bone on her face was visible, jutting painfully out of her features at like a cluster of sharp edged seashells. Her face could have been that of a skull if not for the mass of blonde curls and chapped lips. There was a wire under her nose with two tubes sticking into her nostrils and their pale color all but matched that of her deathly skin.
Her shoulders and arms were the only thing visible beneath the thick blue hospital issued blanket, and they were shockingly narrow as well. Like, Zack didn't think a living person could be that thin. Then he thought of the homeless people he passed every day, the begging children and sickly old men in the alleyways and gutters, and thought that they were probably similarly as wraith-like, only he'd never taken much notice.
He let out a long throaty sigh and collapsed himself into the uncomfortable leather seat beside the bed. He leaned his elbows on the seat and bent forward. Gaia, the amount of needles the woman had in her. It was hard for him to think she could handle them. She was too weak.
"Sky," he breathed out, shaking his head. "What in holy happened to us all?"
The machine beside him answered with a shrill beep.
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Sky didn't wake up for four days.
Zack stayed at the hospital each of these days for a couple of hours, mumbling nonsensical things to the unconscious woman, updating her on the news of the discovered body, which still hadn't been identified, and just trying to keep her company. Others visited throughout the hours; Angeal came with him twice, Yuffie, Tifa, Leon and Yuna at different intervals and some other people he didn't know.
Sky was fed through a drip and given some potions that revitalized vitamin and fluid loss. She was kept on breathing tubes and other things Zack didn't really understand, things that kept her body alive and thrumming even if her mind was already gone. The doctors visited frequently, and every time Zack saw them press their wrinkled lips together and make a 'hmm' sound he wanted to shake them, destroy the negativity they'd unconsciously created in his mind and make them understand how vital it was that they performed a miracle, stood at the peak of their profession and made this sick woman better.
That wasn't going to happen though, it was a truth that had lodged itself in his gut and refused to be budged, the prognosis was too bad. Sky's body was failing, her organs were struggling to function and her pulse was slowing to the point where it had to be pressed upon heavily to even feel its tiny push. She had developed Jaundice which meant her liver wasn't working properly, and her breathing was becoming more strained.
Zack had sat in his room on the fourth night, leaning against the far wall because lying on a bed made him feel guilty now, having been forced home by Sheera and a scuffle of the nursing staff on the grounds that he needed rest. Rest? What a fucking joke. How could he have comfort and rest when people he loved were suffering?
The thought ran through his head again and again and threatened to drive him to lunacy. Sky wasn't going to die. She couldn't die now, it just wasn't the right time. If she died it meant that that terrible morning when Cloud had disappeared was the last morning he would ever see his mom, talk to her, say goodbye to her. That would kill him. He loved his mother, more than anyone else in the world; if he came back and she was just gone it would simply destroy him.
Zack didn't know why he felt it was his fault, but he did. He felt like it was his job to take care of the woman and make sure she was okay until… well he didn't know when. Now he felt like he had just let another person down. He couldn't do anything to help. The notion of heroes seemed further away from reality than ever before.
If Sky died, and Cloud never came back, if the body they found was… it would be like they were never there in the first place. The apartment would be gone, the name would be gone. It would all be nothing more than a memory in his head, one that no one would want to linger on and hear about in the years of his life to come.
The phone ringing in his pocket was perhaps a blessed relief, cutting short the dismal image of his own life to come.
"Hello," he pressed it to his ear without checking the caller information, knowing now that the brunt of disappointment was too hard to bear when he raised hope. But upon hearing the first word the caller spoke, he quickly straightened up against the wall and pressed the plastic into the side of his head so hard it made his skull groan.
"Jack, is that you?"
"Yes. Whats going on."
Sheera breathed loudly into the phone, her answer following immediately after the gust.
"Skye has woken up Jack," but before he had a chance to take in the delight that buzzed through him at the words she continued, deadening it black. "You should come as soon as you can."
As soon as you can. As in, before you cant.
"I'll be there soon."
With that he headed out the door, keys swinging around his fingers.
When he got there- luckily in one piece considering the neck breaking speed he'd rode his bike over the busy wet streets, was met with Shera and Cid who were waiting in the corridor outside Sky's door. Shera's face was red and tears were running down her blanched cheeks as she blew her nose into a scrunched up tissue. She barely had the voice to greet him and it was Cid, who was holding an unlit cigarette between his teeth as he held the woman by the shoulders, who told him that the doctors were in the room now and they could go in once they were done.
"I-is Angeal coming?" Shera choked between sniffles, her eyes peeking out over the tissue.
"I couldn't get through to him. I tried but he's not answering." Another reason he was lucky he didnt resemble the Chocobo that tried to cross the road.
"Well, hopefully he'll call back...in time."
The two doctors came out a few minutes later, mumbling to each other until they regarded the three civilians, the innocents in the war of the flesh, waiting for their words. The older man cleared his throat, handing a blue orb of materia back to his younger colleague and then giving them one of those professionally grim looks.
"Spit it out ol' man."
Zack really loved Cid at that moment.
"Yes," the doctor said, looking a bit perturbed but gathering himself quickly. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you that Miss Strife has reached the final moments of her struggle with this illness. The toxins in her blood have shut down most of her organs by now, and her lungs have filled with fluid that we can no longer drain. If you want to say you're goodbyes, I'd advise you do it now. I've given her a stone CureA to deal with the discomfort and this also has the effect of dulling her conscious mind."
The news was met with a hoarse sigh from Cid, a sob from Shera and a silent sigh of resignation from the youngest of them all.
"I must warn you before you go in that Miss Strife isn't herself. Both her appearance and mentality have been affected severely by the Geostigma and you might find it upsetting."
"T-thank you doctor," Shera managed through sobs, the old man nodded and with another sorrowful look walked away, the younger man trailing at his heels. Putting this case behind them and hoping for more luck in the next.
"Well," Cid sighed, placing his hands on his hips and looking around himself. "Ya better get in there Fair, looks like there aint much time left."
"Nah, you can go in first if you want," Zack inwardly called himself a coward; at least the Chocobo was brave enough to attempt the road.
Both adults shook their heads at him.
"We've …already been with her… You go… Zack, it's you she wants to see," Shera assured him through hiccups, her drooping eyes staring at him in a way that made it impossible to say no.
"Well," he scratched at the back of his head and shrugged, "okay then… I'll go."
There were less mechanical sounds in the room this time, no need for them now, and all the lights had been turned on. He walked in and saw Sky turn her head quickly in his direction.
Her eyes.
He halted his step, his heal literally making a skidding sound against the polished floor. Gaia, her eyes weren't right. They were green. Pure green. Not one bit of blue remained in the irises. It was awful. She looked like some sort of creature with her face like a skull and those…demon eyes in her head. This wasn't her... he didn't know this person.
"I-is someone there..." her voice was strange, high-pitched and breathy. She moved her head around, and Zack stood there with his eyes wide; actually considering going back out the door. Could she see him?
"Hell-o? Are you trying to find the switch? It's in the back,"
Her mentality has been affected.
"Uh, Sky?" He said, taking a few steps forward. Her head moved in his direction again and he tried not to grimace at the horrible sight of her.
"Yessss. Who i-s it? Com…in." He scratched at his shin with the back of his boot as he stared at her. Then he nodded and walked over, taking the seat beside the bed. Gaia, she looked worse close up. This wasn't what people were supposed to look like.
"Hey," he whispered, reaching out a hand and letting it fall on the mattress about an inch from her arm.
"Hello," she said just as softly, giving him a small smile. "I'd offer…. you tea… b-ut everything'sss 'n boxes. Ha… I don't even ha-ve a cup or…"
"It's alright." She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.
"Peo-ple keep co' ing in here you kn-ow," her words were drawn out and he saw liquid gather at the corner of her eyes. His own eyes...
"Who?" He asked, humoring her, knowing that anything else would just cause her stress. She shook her head.
"You're …say such stra-nge things… I 'eed a lock for the front door, door. Men are coming in. I th-ink they're trying to ttt-ake something. Oh Minerva… the baby in the crib." Her face became pinched and she tried to sit up. Zack stood up from his chair and placed a hand on her shoulder, gasping at how far his fingers sunk into the fabric of the hospital gown.
"No, uh. It's okay… the baby's okay," he hushed her, slowly easing her back onto the pillow. Her eyes flew around the room, their wildness giving him chills up his spine. Finally they landed on him and she breathed out a sigh that sounded like relief sloshing around in sewer water.
"Oh there you a-re," she whispered, a big smile forming on her face. He mirrored the expression, so happy that she could see him.
"Yeah, I'm here. I'm with you," he said, moving his hand down to grasp hers. A tear slid down her temple as she looked at him.
"Clo'. My Clou-d-dy," slowly, a hand lifted towards his face, brushing her fingers over his chin. He sighed. She thought…
"No," he said automatically, pulling out of the touch.
"O-oh stop that Sw-sweetheart. So shy," then her eyes grew wide again and she broke into a violent fit of coughing. When he saw the black ink-like substance sliding between her lips he considered calling for the doctor. However the fit subsided soon and with a few painful sounding swallows the woman quieted and sunk back into her pillow.
"Ohhhhhhhhh," she moaned, squeezing her eyes closed. "Oh, you'll be al' right Clo-ud. Wont you? Pr-promise mommy you'll b-e al-right."
Zack felt the stinging sensation behind his eyeballs that told him tears were on their way. He sniffed and squeezed her hand, not caring that all he could feel was the cold points of her bones.
"Yes…" he answered, nodding his head earnestly. "I promise… I promise he'll be okay… I don't know how…" he ducked his head and let the liquid gather beneath his lids. "He'll be alright."
"Okay," the woman opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, her lids widening as they fixed on a certain spot.
"Oh… dear. There you are. Oh. Allll-right… I'm rea-dy now."
Zack watched as she sucked in a long, loud liquid breath. Then a look of piece came over her face, all the pain seeping away.
It was strange to watch her life, and everything that had been unwillingly attached to it leak out of her body and just leave her there. On the bed. There, but not there.
He kept holding her hand, tears streaming down his face even though he wasn't making any sounds or movements otherwise. The monitor started screaming the moment the woman's heart stopped, but it was a few seconds before anyone, nurse or doctor, showed up to do what they did when this happened.
He was led out of the room by one of them, and there he waited with Cid and Shera until the doctors came out and announced that Sky Strife was certainly dead. Alone on that night, with only him beside her, Sky Strife was no more.
Zack didn't really want to wait around after that, but Cid wouldn't let him ride his bike so they left Shera at the hospital while the large man dropped him home.
He didn't actually go into his apartment. Instead he did a u-turn once his coach was out of sight and headed back out onto the street. It was a long walk, probably too long to be on foot, but eventually he found himself in that old park where he and Cloud had gone so often. The boy had a weird OCD thing that made him run the length of the area almost every day, and Zack would come with him often either to run with him or just distract him in whatever fiendish way he could.
He sat there all night, not crying or even feeling particularly sad. He was just there. Him, all alone. No Sky, no Cloud… nothing but the grass reaching out into the landscape, and the blinking Skyline lying on top of it like a layer of concrete mold.
Alone.
Regretful.
His future, the future of a non-hero.
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Sephiroth held Cloud by the elbow as he led him again through the glossy hall of his house. Once they reached the living room he let the boy down on the couch and kneeled on one knee in front of him.
"What do you feel like eating?" He asked, resting his hand on the boy's thigh.
It was around lunchtime and Cloud had yet to eat anything that day. Now that the brunt of his illness had left, the boy needed sustenance in order to rebuild his strength, and Sephiroth was determined to provide it for him, whether he wanted it or not. He wouldn't have him fade to nothing for the sake of sulking.
"..." Cloud just stared back at him dully so he sighed, tilting his head to the side.
"Hmm, how about some cereal? Does that sound manageable?" He suggested, watching his silent charge who waited several long seconds before slowly moving his head to nod.
"Cereal it is then," he replied, glad that his question had actually been answered for once. "I'll be back shortly." He squeezed Cloud's leg briefly and then stood up and left for the kitchen.
Cloud curled in on himself, pressing his back as far into the arm of the couch as he could and wrapping his arms around his mid-section. He caught sight of his reflection in the television across from him. Gaia, he didn't even know himself anymore. Is that what he looked like? He was horrible, all skinny and shrunken looking. He looked like the people at the end of some horror movie, after they'd been abused and traumatized, cut and bleeding and pale with terror. Victims.
But that was exactly what he was now, wasn't it? He would never be a normal kid again, or a college student, a writer, artist. In the last few days since… his birthday, his mind had been reeling over the fact that everything was all gone; from now on, no matter what happened or where he went, he would just be a victim. He would be a person who had suffered one of the worst things there was to suffer. His body had been debased, ruined and used against his consent, so it wasn't his anymore. It was just something he was trapped in now. A casket of meat and veins and muscle. His name and everything with it was gone and there was only one word left in his life.
Rape.
Rape.
Rape.
Sephiroth's return to the room was for once welcomed, at least then his mind would have something to concentrate on except the bone-crushing depression. No, now he had a number of things to occupy his thoughts; fear, revulsion, sickness, loneliness, sadness.
"Here," the man handed him a deep porcelain bowl filled below the brim with wheat cereal and he took it slowly. When he looked down at the food he realized the bowl was shaking, no, not the bowl, his hands. They were shaking. He tried to calm himself, urge them to stop but they just wouldn't.
"How do you feel?" Sephiroth asked as he sat down beside him on the cushions, his heavy body making them dip. Cloud raised his eyes from where they were focused on the swirling motions of his spoon. He regarded his kidnapper in silence, this demon that turned so pale in the white morning light; a marble statue with two gems gashed into the face to serve as cold, emotionless eyes.
Sephiroth didn't seem perturbed by his study; he just clicked his tongue and leaned forward to brush his un-gloved fingers against his forehead.
"You're temperature is normal. Do you feel weak at all?"
Cloud shook his head.
"Is the head-ache gone?"
He nodded.
Sephiroth mumbled something before turning away from him. There was a few minutes of silence in which Cloud kept his eyes down on the bowl he was swirling the spoon around in, not yet taking anything into his mouth. The little golden spheres were turning the milk off-color, making his stomach clench in nausea.
Sephiroth tapped his index finger against his chin and contemplated his next words. He had to convey what had happened without causing an immediate panic, which would be highly difficult. It was hard for him to understand the devastation this news would cause for the boy because he had never lost a parent himself; he'd never had one to lose. Also, he felt that Sky's passing was something which should have been expected and something which could detach the boy further from his old life, so he was personally pleased by the news, hindering the empathy he ought to be required to display.
"Cloud."
The boy clinked his spoon against the bowl and then looked at him with dull, uninterested eyes. "Eat quickly, I have something to talk to you about once you're done." He certainly wouldn't feel like eating afterword's.
Cloud only ate a few spoonfuls before he said he was full. Sephiroth let it pass without comment both because the boy's appetite was still dwindling due to his illness and because he was anxious to tell the boy what had happened.
He took the bowl and placed it on the low table in front of them, then turned and regarded the other with a serious look. Cloud stared back at him, his hands wrung together on his lap and dark bags beneath his eyes.
"Cloud," he started in a low voice, moving his left hand to rest on the boy's knees.
Cloud's stomach was beginning to knot at the look he was receiving. Sephiroth always acted strange and cryptic when he was planning something that he wouldn't like and it terrified him. Then again, what could be worse than what had already happened? Going through it all over again?
"I have some bad news."
The words surprised him, simply because he hadn't been expecting them. He furrowed his brows and looked at the man in puzzlement. Sephiroth just stared back with that weird expression.
"This will upset you," he warned, squeezing his fingers around his thigh as though to comfort him. He knew nothing of the word. "And I want you to remain as calm as possible."
Sickness bubbled in Cloud's stomach, rising to his throat and forcing him to take a loud swallow.
"I'm afraid this concerns you're mother."
And he didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want to hear what he knew the man was going to say. That was why he was looking at him the way he was.
"She suffered a very severe attack a couple of nights back," a short pause, "and I'm afraid she didn't recover from it… she passed on last night."
And there it was. The words that could never be taken back. The words that told him that he would truly never see his mother again, that that fateful morning was indeed the last time he would ever see her alive. Sky, his mother. His mom.
Gone.
He let out a breath, his chin falling to rest against his chest.
"How?" He whispered, squeezing his hands into fists. He hadn't really directed the question at Sephiroth, but the man answered all the same.
"She suffered a seizure that weakened her heart. Her body simply wasn't able to recover." It was said in a plain, emotionless voice. As though they were not discussing the death of a person. The most important person in his life.
The teen slapped his hands over both of his ears, shaking his head.
"Stop," he said desperately, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
No, it wasn't real. Sephiroth was lying. He was just trying to hurt him. That's what he did. He was always trying to hurt him.
"You're lying," he hissed, opening his eyes and looking at the man, letting all of his anger and confusion spill onto his face. The man stared back without saying a word.
"You're a liar," he cried again.
"I can assure you I'm not lying," Sephiroth murmured, pushing a tendril of hair back over his shoulder, "I think you know that."
"No, you- you're a liar. Why are you saying this to me? Why … LIAR."
"Calm down Cloud," A low, deadly tone now.
"N-" Cloud's breath left him, the realization of what had happened setting in like ice to his veins. He thought about his mom. She was so frail and weak, sick for so long. He knew that his kidnapping would kill her. Losing her son wasn't something she was able for now. The worry, the grief and the reporters hounding her every day. She wasn't able for that. Of course she had gotten worse. Of course she died. His captor wasn't lying, he was telling the truth. His mother was dead.
And it was Sephiroth's fault.
If he hadn't taken him, if he had just given up on whatever sick, fucked-up obsession he had and left him be then none of this would have happened. He could still be at home, taking care of her. She wouldn't have suffered all this stress and gotten sicker. It was his fault.
His fingernails bit into the palms of his hands until they drew blood.
"Why are you doing this?" He breathed out between heavy breaths.
Sephiroth slid his body closer to him, so that their legs were touching.
"You needed to know," he answered. Cloud shook his head.
"Why are you doing all of this to me? Why did you take me?"
Sephiroth, I love you.
"That's irrelevant now." His kidnapper snapped, shaking his head.
"It's not," he argued back, "If you didn't take me none of this would be happening."
"Oh, come on now Cloud," the man said back, his voice high and patronizing as it so often was, "you know well your mother was ill. This would have happened eventually. You just couldn't accept that."
"No," the teen wasn't having any of his mind-games. He wasn't going to let the man twist and confuse everything he was thinking. "It wouldn't. You caused this."
"Tch," Sephiroth clicked his tongue and closed his eyes, as though he was trying to teach something to a dim-witted recipient and growing weary of it.
"She was sick Cloud. Dying," he said again, holding his hands out in front of him, "do you understand that?"
"Well," Cloud licked his lips, looking to his side and then back at the man, "even so… I should have been there with her."
"You're not a doctor, or a potion master. You wouldn't have stopped this."
"I'm her son," Cloud shouted in exasperation, giving him a disbelieving look. "Do you understand that? I'm her son. I should have been with her. Not here. I don't want to be here and I wouldn't have been here if you didn't fucking kidnap me."
"Enough," Sephiroth hissed, leaning forward and putting his hand on his shoulder. Cloud grit his teeth and jerked backwards, away from his hold.
"You have been left alone long enough," Sephiroth's voice conveyed the seriousness he felt about the topic. He didn't feel sympathy for the boy; he was trying to help him and was getting nothing but grief and insults in return. "I took you because she couldn't take care of you and I don't regret that."
"No," Cloud said, water beginning to gather at the corner of his eyes. "You don't regret anything. You just hurt and torture me and you don't care. You… don't care about anything."
"I care about you. And I cannot bring myself to lament my decision to bring you here. You were alone in that city. I rescued you."
"No, I wasn't alone. I had friends and a family. You took me away from them. If I'm alone its because of you," Cloud's voice was getting louder and louder, his temper rising again. Sephiroth would normally have already put a stop to this little outburst but decided that the boy needed to vent his frustration that morning, and it was somewhat refreshing to see that bit of life returning to him.
"I gave you a better life," he said for the hundredth time since his boy had come to be with him, hoping that repetition would engrave truth.
"What life?" Cloud snapped bitterly, "being locked in a room all day? Having no one to talk to or nowhere to go. Only getting out of there to be… What life?" His voice was starting to crack and he could feel a lump emerging in his throat.
Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
Sephiroth wasn't pleased at all with the insults, but he clenched his jaw and let him continue.
"What's wrong with you? How are you able to do this and try to justify it? Ev- everyone thinks I'm dead. And you… I have nothing now. You took away my hope. I have nothing now." Cloud dug his fingers into the skin above his eyes as his mind grew more hectic. Everything he wanted to say to the man was trying to come out at the same time and he hadn't enough breath for it.
"You're evil. You're a monster. You killed Clarence, he was innocent and you killed him for no reason. And now you've killed her?" His eyes widened and he looked up at Sephiroth in unspeakable horror.
"She was the most important person in the world to me?" He said desperately.
Sephiroth looked into the boy's puffy eyes, his expression becoming darker and his lips twitched downward for a moment. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Not anymore," he drawled, running his fingers along the back of the couch in such a relaxed manner he seemed to be in a different world than Cloud. How could he be like this? He had no conscience. He didn't feel one bit of remorse for what had happened.
"You're a monster," Sephiroth gave him a calm look.
"You're upset, I understand."
"You killed her," Cloud's body was shaking with tension and anger as he closed his eyes in resignation. Why was he surprised? Life meant nothing to this man. He would easily take any life he needed in order to get what he wanted. He knew this.
"You never thought anything of me killing thousands before. A hero, isn't that what you and every other pathetic being in Midgar thought I was? Why do you change your mind now Cloud?" There was no hint of anger in Sephiroth's voice; it was more condescending and smug, as though he was dealing with someone in a much lower intelligence field.
"It was my…mother…" Cloud shook his head, frustrated. "It…that was different." He managed weakly, knowing he was hanging himself with his words.
"Different," Sephiroth scoffed, pleased to see Cloud's resolve weaken. "How was it different.? Were the men I killed in Wutia not sons and husbands and brothers and fathers? Did their lives mean less than Clarence's or Seifers?" He saw his flinch and smiled inwardly.
"It was a war," he whispered.
"That makes it alright?"
"Yes, no, its… it still doesn't mean you can just kill people like that," Cloud's voice was soft and defeated now, he wasn't crying. He didn't have the energy to.
"Cloud. If it weren't for me there would be a lot more dead people in Midgar. I saved their lives and I can take them away if I wish. And I didn't kill your mother. Geostigma did. There is no cure for it."
"I should have been there."
For the longest time Cloud remained silent, his glum eyes staring stubbornly ahead. Sephiroth drummed his fingers along the back of the couch as he stared at the silent teen with a look of intense expectation on his face.
"Are you going to kill me?"
The small, whispered question was not what he had been expecting to hear. He didn't reply immediately, frankly at a loss for words.
"Don't say such ridiculous things," he snapped when he finally caught his voice. He wrinkled his brow and continued. "Everything I do is to ensure you are not harmed. I want you with me for the rest of my life." He put so much force into his words it strained his throat.
"You hurt me though," Cloud looked down at his wrists, "and you get so mad. You'll get sick of me one day and you'll just kill me." His voice was so monotone and resigned it made Sephiroth, for one weak instant, believe the words. But it was only an instant, because the idea was beyond obscene. He would never hurt this boy. Never. It was the way Cloud felt about himself that made him think like this, he didn't believe he was worthy of love or affection. Of course he would think this way. It would be a long time before Sephiroth could convince him otherwise.
But he inwardly chastised himself for taunting the boy. He had gotten sadistic perhaps, and resentful of the boy's distant attitude, so he baited him with something that he knew would hurt him. But he shouldn't have, Cloud was young and had just found out that he had lost his mother. He was devastated and people in that sort of grief often tried to blame others for their loss, it was natural. He was foolish for reacting to it; he should know better.
He took Clouds left hand in his and brought it towards his lips, big blue, dead eyes watching him.
"I only hurt you if I need to. It's always out of love Cloud. Never anger or hatred." He kissed each of the fingers separately. "I am sorry for what happened to your mother. If not for her then for you. I do not want to see you sad."
"I'm tired." Cloud muttered, pulling back his arm. He looked at his captor pleadingly and this time Sephiroth hadn't the heart to disappoint him. He needed some time to himself now anyway; he had to think over what had happened and adjust to it at his own pace.
"Okay."
Cloud insisted on walking the short distance towards his room without aid, and was glad when they finally reached the bookshelf disguised door.
He stood to the side numbly as he watched Sephiroth unlock the door slash bookshelf with a small silver key and then pull it out. It seemed such a normal, unimportant action but in reality it was the difference between freedom and captivity, his past and present.
Once the door was open Sephiroth turned towards him and placed a hand on the back of his neck. He leaned in and kissed his forehead, taking a few seconds there.
"I'll leave you to yourself for a while love," he murmured, "just relax, try to get some rest for a while. I'll bring you some food later."
Cloud didn't reply.
"Don't think on it too much now Cloud. You have to move on from this." He guided the blond in with a hand on his back. Cloud walked through the threshold, feeling the temperature drop a few degrees. He walked down the stairs numbly and once at the bottom he turned to see Sephiroth watching him.
The lights had yet to be turned on, so the only illumination came from the still open door. It shone like a spotlight on the boy, making his blue eyes sparkle like Canyon sapphires.
Cloud watched as the man slowly close the door. Like the last sunset he had ever seen or may ever see again, he watched the light slowly diminish, the final sight remaining a single green gem burnt into stone, burning into him, before his world became dark.
He fell to his knees with the brunt of the heavy blackness, one word floating in its mass.
Mom.
Mommy.
She was part of the darkness now.
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